


Living Space.

by orphan_account



Series: Immigrant Caballero AU [3]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), Legend of the Three Caballeros (Cartoon), The Three Caballeros (1944)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Roleplay, Safe Sane and Consensual, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23802982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The three of them take advantage of the pros of their new mansion.
Relationships: José Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles
Series: Immigrant Caballero AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678903
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52





	Living Space.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and I get no money. This is a re-upload of a story because my stupid tablet got the wording of the story all messed up.

In all honesty, the mansion was not really necessary. Sure, José felt like he had been cheated like the rest of them had, but he had gotten used to their humble little shack. The inheritance given to them by Donald's great grandfather was already generous enough. The roomy shack filled with many books, the good bit of land it was built on - it was enough.

José first expressed doubt when Donald did some digging in their hoards of books and accidentally come across some papers that their sleazy lawyer must have either overlooked or didn't care to discuss. It turned out that their neighbor somehow took hold of his grandfather's papers and ended up stealing the mansion from them. The shack was merely apart of it. Really, when it turned out that Donald's suspicions were correct and their shitty neighbor had stolen half of their inheritance from them, José couldn't help but bust out laughing. What kind of telenovela bullshit was this. 

Donald found them by accident, and it must have been along the lines of shocking and maybe even traumatic for the poor American. When he was told by his boss that he could go home early, he probably never in a million years thought he would stumble back to what he saw in their shack. José, to this day, still isn't sure how much Donald heard or saw, and he probably won't share the details with him any time soon. The memory embarrassed him tremendously, which was funny to José. Donald felt embarrased? What about them?

It's not enough that one could probably hear a good amount through the bamboo structure of their shack. (The stretched-out property helped out a good bit with that.) Donald is always the last to come home. That was nothing new, so the American did not think anything of hearing the faint voices of his two housemates outside the walls. Whatever it was Panchito and José were talking about, they were talking pretty loud. That also was nothing new. The immigrants often raised their voices to sing or whenever they got excited telling a story about their homelands. They were so loud that they did not hear Donald unlocked the door and letting himself in. He hangs up his coat and takes his shoes off, like usual; the voices of his housemates still muffled.

But he starts to feel his skin crawl when he hears what he knows to be José saying the words "no" and "stop".

He runs up the stairs, adrenaline pumping through him and ready for a fight. He sees the shadows of what looks like two figures rough housing in José's bed.

"José!" Donald exclaims, pushing the cracked door all the way open. "Wha--"

José and Panchito, all tangled up in the sheets and their own intertwined, sweaty limbs, stop their little rough housing, flushed and panting. The three housemates just stared at one another in shock, not sure what to say or what to do.

The thing is is that they were roleplaying. It was safe, sane, and consensual. They had a safe word (it was "rojo") and they had talked about boundaries. 

Panchito was posing as a ranger that had kidnapped José, a pretty young man from a wealthy family, and holding him for a ransom. In the meantime, the kidnapper thought he might have some fun with the scared, flustered hostage.

José said he was fine with him holding up a gun of knife, but Panchito absolutely refused to even used an unloaded gun for this. One should always treat a gun like it is loaded at all times, and to never point the barrel at people or things they do not want to shoot. He had a knife for this scene, but he did not have it anywhere near José. He would put it down on the night stand after the "threatening" bit. ("No one can save you now. I don't want to hurt you. It's just business.") Now what Panchito did not hold back on was his strength and him being able to hold a man down if he put up a fight or struggle. He also was very open to rope play. Years of practice from camping, hunting, and lassoing. Panchito loved it, and José was happy that he loved it.

God, it was getting good too.

The way that Panchito was so strong, pinning his wrists down and limited his leg movement, thrusting down on him and mouthing at José's neck took his breath away. He was rock hard and already leaking. It probably wouldn't take him long to come if Panchito kept this up, manhandling him and speaking to him in that low, sleepy voice: "Aw, don't be like that. I'll even take my time and figure out how you like it. Hmmm, looks like you like this. You keep this up, I'll have to get the rope out."

It was pretty obvious that José was on cloud nine. He still struggled and grunted, but his face was flushed and he was more moaning and sighing his "no's" and "stops" than saying them. Panchito was in the middle of holding both of his wrists in one hand while he was unbuttoning his shirt - when Donald stormed in.

José wasn't so sure if he really wanted to keep the mansion. The other two might have agreed. Maybe they would discuss it at some point. It was beautiful, but it was a lot to take care of. There was so much to clean. And even if they invited all of Donald's nephews and the rest of his friends and family, there were still bedrooms left not being used. What was the point. Also, it was expensive as shit. Sure, they could be careful with money, but it was going to weigh on them at some point. The only person among them with a "real job" that paid well was Donald. Maybe they could tear down at least half of the building. Keep the library, the kitchen, two or three bedrooms and their bathrooms. Or maybe they could rent out a number of the rooms. Would be a great way to start teaching the boys and Daisy's nieces about that.

But there was one thing that José definitely liked about the mansion, and that was the privacy. Lock all the doors and windows and they could do whatever they wanted. Not worry about noise and being heard from the outside, like with the shack. Donald could spend a day downstairs and not hear any shenanigans going on from upstairs. 

Donald had still not gotten used to the "dynamics" of José and Panchito. He still jumped in to ask if José was hurt when Panchito fucked him rough and had him sweating and keening. He still jumped in to say they should stop because José said "no" or "stop". He didn't understand that neither of those words were the safeword. The two of them tried remaining patient and talking him through it all. 

José, who had been on all fours, ass in the air and was mercilessly being taken by Panchito from behind, lifted his top half up on shaking arms to look at Donald before him. "It's okay, love," He soothes, face burning and eyes barely open. "Come here."

He reaches a shaky hand up to grab Donald's hip and guide him forward, closer to him. He nuzzled and kissed around his cock. "I like it." He took Donald into his mouth and moaned around it, making his American friend gasp and shudder. From behind, there came a pleasurable burning sting on one of his ass cheeks from where Panchito hit him. It made him howl, the noise muffled from the cock in his mouth. 

"Just enjoy, my friend," Panchito purred.

For more assurance, José gently caressed Donald's hips and thighs, and Donald at some point stops a rubbing hand to hold into his own. 

José is the first to wake up in the morning, as usual. (He's usually the first to pass out from sex, so it makes sense.) There's the warmth of Panchito's heart at his ear, and the warmth of Donald's hand resting on top of his own. José opens his heavy eyes slowly. Both him and Donald are resting on Panchito: José's head on his chest, Donald's head on his shoulder. Panchito is resting a hand on each waist. It was nice when he woke up to this instead of them laying apart, after they instinctively rolled away from each other in their sleep at some point during the night. 

Other times, José would instead wake up to Donald mumbling or straight up talking in his sleep, and he would always try to gently comfort him by rubbing his arm, hand, hair, or back.

Lately, Donald had been trying to think of what to say to his nephews. In the past, he once had a strained relationship with them over keeping details of their mother from them. José and Panchito could try to calm him with the same sweet words over and over ("Even if they don't understand now, they will when they are older" "They will not have a reason to hold anything against you if you just tell them"), but the fact of the matter is is that they had absolutely no experience with parenting. José used to babysit, and Panchito took care of a lot of his younger siblings, but neither of them were tossed three fresh newborns, and then spent hour upon hour, day after day, using up their time and money and energy taking care of children that were entirely dependent on them, with very little outside help. Scrooge did not help him for the longest time, and the father of the boys, whoever the hell he was, seemed to have completely walked out on them. 

Donald had been conflicted on telling the boys about not only his sexuality, but whatever the hell it was that he had with his two housemates. Were they fuck buddies? A fling? Boyfriends? 

José trusted that the boys had already long figured out about their uncle's sexuality. He rarely dated women and his dates with women never turned out well. They either figured out he was gay or just unlucky. Or just thought that his "unflattering status" (as in constantly jobless and broke) scared them off.

Whatever the case, José and Panchito would help Donald find the words to tell the boys at some point. It might be best if they do it together.


End file.
